I Heard a Rumour
by Xandochu
Summary: No, I would never be someone significant in Santa Carla. This place would change me, as all places do, but I would never bend to its will. I would never belong to Santa Carla, and it would never belong to me. How wrong could I be? OCxUndecided
1. Prologue

When my parents told me they were completely uprooting everything to go take care of my ailing grandmother, I thought I had been understandably upset. I had friends, school, a job, history, and I was losing it all because my parents couldn't bear to leave me alone – or even let me move in with a friend. My dad admonished me for being insolent, screamed at me for being selfish and cruel to my grandmother. I wasn't trying to be, honestly, I love my grandmother, but to live with her permanently? I couldn't stand her odd behaviour for more than the few days we visited during the summer. She rarely ate, and she always slept during the day and only was awake and active at night; I don't think I've ever seen her go out in the sun. And her house always reeked of dead things (probably one of her long forgotten cats, or one of those weird taxidermy statues a neighbour brought her) – I just didn't like it there.

I didn't like Santa Carla. There was too much gang violence, too much theft, too much crime, too much partying; it was just too much. The wild side of Santa Carla threatened to swallow one up in an unending orgy of ecstasy. It was a unlike any place I'd known before. Santa Carla would chew me up and spit back out in a matter of hours. I wasn't like the people there, I wasn't into the newest fashions, I wasn't really a part of the music scene, and I didn't care for the whole "live fast, die young" thing. No, I was focused on getting an education and getting the fuck out of Dodge while I could. Santa Carla? Santa Carla would kill me before I made it to college. It is, after all, "the Murder Capital of the World". I remember reading those words emblazoned with white spray paint on the back of the "Welcome to Santa Carla" sign. That sign gave me nightmares for a solid week after I spotted it. I had never heard that before, but it was backed up so well by the missing persons cases and the constant "Have you seen this person?" questions.

It scared me because I knew the truth behind it. For those few days during the summer, I would see the signs on the boardwalk, on the milk cartons - and more and more signs were added each day. I refused to go to the boardwalk after sunset, petrified I'd join those who had mysteriously "disappeared". That point was hammered home two years ago, when my grandmother's neighbour's son went missing, and never re-emerged: dead or run-away. My parents refused to let me leave Grandmother's house until we left Santa Carla after that. They blamed his disappearance on the local "Surf-Nazi" gang, and promptly cut our trip short. Thank God.

Then there was the issue of starting at a new school midway through the year. I wouldn't know anyone, and by that time everybody would have already settled into cliques and groups and there would be no room for a new kid. It would be hell. I would be that freaky new kid, and the rumours would spread like wild fire- just like they had when that kid transferred into _my_ school last year. These ridiculous rumours circulated about him being expelled from his last school for assaulting a teacher to running away from a gang and being in witness protection. It's amazing the things people came up with about him. What they might come up with about me. I had a hard time making the friends I already had, but to start from scratch? I would end up friendless for the rest of the year, maybe even until graduation. I thought perhaps that might be for the better: no ties to Santa Carla mean that there would never be a reason to ever return after graduating.

I would have to find a new job, something that had been near impossible back home and would be even harder in Santa Carla. With the abundant population, the unemployment rate had to be high, not to mention the few who would actually hire a teenage girl. They'd think I was a coke-head or knocked up the moment I walked in looking for a job. Maybe they'd think I was trying to rob them or… Okay, maybe it wouldn't be that extreme. But still, the job hunt would be hard as hell

I was doomed no matter what. And my parents didn't care.

The smell of the sea overwhelmed me, flooding my mind with memories of a blue sea. I suppose that was one perk of Santa Carla - easy access to the beach. My wavy red hair whipped around my face as I leaned out the car window, trying to get a view of the people we swiftly passed by. I was right; I would never fit in here. To these strangers, I would be another passing face, nothing spectacular, not one reason to even ask my name – just another stranger.

'_Good.' _I thought, '_Just how I like it I can be invisible and unimportant.' _

Yes. That's how I would survive. I wouldn't stand out from the crowd; I wouldn't make myself a target for gangs or rapists or anybody. I would slip by Santa Carla's radar and in a few years, I would have never existed to these people – and not because I was simply another missing person.

No, I would never be a somebody in Santa Carla. This place would change me, as all places do, but I would never bend to its will. I would never belong to Santa Carla, and it would never belong to me. This place was simply another stepping stone in life, a hurdle I had to overcome. I would blend with the faceless hordes, avoid the night life and obey the laws and my own safety precautions: Never leave the house at night, No gangs, No boys, No alcohol, No drugs, Be sceptical about everything and everyone, There are no good people here, Get out as fast as you can.

Santa Carla, the Murder Capital of the World.

I couldn't have been more wrong about you.


	2. Here I Go Again

_Here I go again on my own_

_Goin' down the only road I've ever known –_

I turned down the radio, and jumped out of bed. When my parents said they wanted me to start school as soon as possible, I kind of hoped they hadn't meant the very next day. Boxes lay around the room, begging to be unpacked. Words such as "Alice's bedroom", "Alice's Clothes", etc. marred their sides and tops. I ignored these boxes in favour of my backpack, which held an outfit for my "first" day of school: High waist black jean shorts, which cut off just above my knees, and a tucked in white blouse. It wasn't the most fashionable outfit I'd ever worn, but it would do.

I ran my fingers through my red hair as I bolted down the stairs into the kitchen. My parents sat at the antique oak table, eating away at breakfast. I felt queasy, and refused anything other than a piece of toast slathered in strawberry jam.

"I can't drive you in today dear, your father and I have to go job hunting," stated Mom. "It's not a long walk anyway. It's good your Grandmother lives so close to the high school." Dad nodded along to what she was saying, never looking up from his newspaper.

"That's fine," I murmured. I would rather learn my way around sooner than later, just in case. I finished off my toast, and immediately began to cram my feet into my sneakers. My backpack hung off one shoulder, light with only paper and pens. I would likely get my textbooks today or tomorrow, until then however, I would relish in the light, non-back-breaking load.

Sun, blinding, warming, sun pounded down on me. People really didn't lie when it came to the warmth of California. I could feel sweat begin to bead on my forehead.

'_I'll be sunburnt by the end of this walk,' _I mused. Great, that was exactly what I needed, to walk into first period looking like a lobster. As if there weren't enough things to make fun of me for.

Cars roared by, filled to the brim with both students and adults – either to school or work or even the beach to avoid those. I was slightly jealous of a particular group of girls riding in a fire truck red convertible. Their blonde hair big and untamed, shirts and shorts tiny and fashionable, I was extremely jealous. They were likely cheerleaders or prom queens in the making. Popular and pretty, something I had never, nor ever wanted, to be. Still…I guess it was inlaid in every girl to be jealous of those better looking.

A half-hour walk from my Grandmother's home was the high school. Tall and imposing, brick walls and small windows, with hundreds of teenage students milling about, this was my new school. It had a rather, unimaginative name: Santa Carla High School. I got a few stares as I walked on, and in through the heavy wooden doors. I was glad I didn't gain a lot of attention; I suppose these kids saw people come and go all the time. Plus, all the weird fashions that came and went here – I suppose seeing someone new really wasn't a shock for the students here. Oh well, better for me then.

The halls were filled, nerds and jocks a like crowded around lockers. I made my way forth, ignoring the various conversations. I managed to pick up a bit here and there, about concerts, bonfires on the beach, even Dungeons and Dragons. This was so unlike the place I came from, where the most important news of each day was who managed to buy the new Whitney Houston cassette tape.

The door I was looking for stood out well, its frosted window having a large "Principal's Office" emblazoned in black lettering on it. I pushed the door open and came face to face with possibly the most uptight old woman I have ever met. Prim, proper, as if she had stepped straight out of the 60's. Her grey hair was done up in the most high and tight bun I'd ever seen, forcing her forehead upward and eyes into an angle. Not like you could tell from behind her large, red, glasses.

_Mrs. Higgins _

"Alice Johnson, your schedule and locker. First period begins in fifteen minutes, _do not be late._"

Alright then, that was quick. Just as soon as I had entered, I found myself leaving. Back into the, even more, crowded hallway. Still, I was invisible – good.

First class – 9am, English, room 106, Mr. Doyle.

This should be good; English was one of my favourite subjects and easily one of my best. Hell, with a school of this size, it might even have a creative writing club. If they were accepting members, I might join up. After all, it would give me something to do and get me out of the house. As long as it didn't run too late, I mean, I didn't want to be traversing around after sunset, and just like any place, I imagine the days become shorter as winter comes along.

* * *

My first day went well, and my second, and my third.

I had even managed to make an acquaintance, in one Lizzie Banks. A pretty, blonde popular girl, she brought attention I didn't fully desire, but saw no reason to refuse. This was my chance to fit in, to be popular. It meant people to talk with and spend my lunches with and maybe even after school with. As long as –

"Hey Alice, we're going to the boardwalk tonight, you should tag along!" Exclaimed Lizzie, as she hung off her boyfriend, Harry. He was older, and not quite handsome, but he was a football player, and that's all that mattered. "There's a concert and it's just going to be totally radical!"

I should have said no.

I should have forgone my friendship with Lizzie.

But this was a chance at friends, even if only for a year or so.

It wasn't as if they were going to be permanent friends, but still, it would make my life here a fair bit easier. Maybe – maybe….

"Okay."

I had done it. Broken my own rules not a week into being in Santa Carla. How stupid of me. What if something happened?

'_No, nothing would happen,' _I reassured myself, _'Lizzie and Harry are out there every night and nothing bad has happened to them yet.' _

Just this once, I'm sure it wouldn't hurt.

* * *

**There is a poll up on my profile for the pairing. The Lost Boys will be making an appearance in the next chapter!**


	3. Keep Your Hands To Yourself

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Lost Boys**

* * *

My_ honey my baby don't put my love upon no shelf_

_S__he said don't hand me no lines and keep your hands to yourself._

I was the biggest idiot to ever idiot on the face of this planet. I should have seen this coming from miles away, but here I was on the Santa Carla boardwalk, past sunset, by myself. Lizzie and Harry had ditched me within minutes of the sun going down – and I officially had no way of getting back to my grandmother's house until they re-appeared. Apparently, Harry had some business to do with the nights Surf-Nazi bonfire and had to leave for a while. Lizzie, playing the part of the wonderful girlfriend went with him, and I was abandoned in front of the ferris wheel. I never should have fucking broken my own rules, never should have listened to Lizzie, never should have come here. I hate this place. I hate this dumb boardwalk and I hate-

That jackass that just spilt his booze on me.

Fuck.

If my folks weren't going to be mad at me for being out this late on a school night, they were sure to bust my ass once they realized I smelt like beer.

I could feel hot tears begin to well in my eyes. This wasn't fair, and I was a complete and total fool. Even if I did blend in with my crop-top and cigarette jeans, I didn't belong here. This was a town for exciting people looking to do exciting things. I wasn't exciting, and I simply wanted an undisturbed life without the everlasting pulse of the boardwalk.

Rapidly, I made my way from the ferris wheel to a nearby womens bathroom. I wiped the tears from my face, along with the smudged mascara Lizzie had applied just an hour earlier. I couldn't let this get to me, I was stronger than this, I was used to being alone – not needing anyone, and I was going to prove it to the people of Santa Carla. Tonight, I would be a wild child, free and untamed, just like any other girl in town. I may not have had mascara to replace the loss, but I could smudge it more and create a smokey eye effect. Lizzie wanted me to have a good time, and I would.

I wandered back into the bright lights and overwhelming sounds, and took to strutting down near the shops. I avoided the beach, lit up with bonfires and nighttime surfers, all of which belonged to the Surf-Nazi gang and other subdivisions. I didn't need to get mixed up with them, but I did need to have a good time. Punks, Jocks and all sorts of geeks alike crowded each inch, making a weird combination that just seemed to _work_ with Santa Carla. I pushed my way past, and continued to walk towards the next place that caught my eye – a video store.

I walked in, and was promptly greeted by the cashier, a pretty girl with huge hair. She instructed me that all the newer releases were located on a shelf near the front, and just to get her or the owner – Max, who stood facing another customer – If I needed anything. I wasn't really interested in anything, but at least browsing would kill some time.

I squeezed my way over to the new releases, noting immediately that yet another brat pack movie had been released. _The Breakfast Club_ had been pretty good, and I couldn't help but swoon over Judd Nelson and Emilio Estevez. Shame Rob Lowe hadn't been in it, then it would have been perfect. _The Outsiders_ had to be my favourite though, Matt Dillon and Ralph Macchio? I sure wouldn't say "no". _The Karate Kid II _had just come out though, maybe I could pick that up and convince Grandma to let me use her VHS to watch it.

My train of thought was interrupted by the door swinging open with a loud "bang". Four boys about my age walked in, each as attractive as the next. The blonde leading them, his icy eyes connected with mine and I knew, I just _knew_, these boys would be the death of me. Fear, and _excitment_ pulsed through my veins. All of a sudden, my rules were gone. I didn't _care_ if these boys were the death of me, _ as long as it was them. _

A smirk passed from the leader, to the one with the beauitful dark mane, to the tall one with Twisted Sister hair, to the tiny one who appeared to have just stepped out of a painting. I tried to avert my attention back to the movies, but it was no luck. In a blink, they were there, beside me, two on each side. Blood rushed to my cheeks, and made it impossible to force away the blush.

"Haven't seen you 'round before," Stated the small one, smiling as if he were the devil himself.

"Uh, it's my first time here," I replied. "My folks and I just moved from across the country." My fingers grazed over the movie cases, as much as I tried to keep my focus on them, it was impossible with these boys nearby.

"Oh?" This came from the dark haired one.

"Yeah, um, I-I have friends waiting for me, so if you don't mind, I gotta-"

The leader smirked, as if I had told a joke.

"Heh, well then, wanna lift babe?" Retorted Twisted Sister. I shook my head, even though my body was telling me to go with them. I had already been made the fool once, hopefully I could find Lizzie and Harry and leave with them, and _soon._

"No thanks," I squeaked, trying to push myself away from them.

"Boys, I thought I told you not to come in here." The time, it was the owner, Max, speaking. A stern look caused the boys to relent, and with one final look at me, they were gone.

I hoped I never ran into them again alone, but at the same time...

I couldn't wait to see them.

* * *

**There is a poll on my profile concerning the pairing.**


	4. Under Pressure

I don't own The Lost Boys or "Under Pressure" by David Bowie and Queen

* * *

"_It's the terror of knowing,_

_What this world is about_

_Watching some good friends_

_Screaming "Let me out!"_

_Tomorrow gets me higher_

_Pressure on people - people on streets"_

I didn't run into those boys again for a while. In fact, I remained away from the Boardwalk for a good two weeks – despite Lizzie's begging for me to return. Eventually, she just stopped trying. I don't blame her; I wouldn't want to drag me around either. I suppose it was for the better, I wouldn't have to break my rules again, and could live an easy, invisible life in Santa Carla. Lizzie was a great girl, but I just couldn't see us remaining friends for the long run.

Letting out a depressed sigh, I made my way through the overcrowded school hallway. Even with a large population of skipping students, I still had to push and shove just to get to a classroom a few doors down from where I had originally been. It was such a pain in the ass. At least I had History class to look forward to today. We were covering the Roman Empire, and how far it spread across Europe, as well as its lasting effects. History was also one of the few classes I shared with Lizzie. If I was lucky, she would leave me alone today, maybe send a cold glare and possibly call me a "square" under her breath.

Today was different though, today Lizzie sat at her desk, with no one surrounding her. Usually she had a small group of friends completely encompassing her desk until class officially started. Even if she only spoke to me for a while, I was a little concerned with the way her usually big blonde hair now hung limply against her scalp and face. Her brown eyes were dull, and focused on her scratched up wooden desk. Instead of bold and confident, she was lonely, lost looking. Then I heard it,

"_Harry hasn't come home for the last few days. The cops say he might be missing."_

Oh, oh no. Lizzie didn't deserve that. For Harry to just become another face on a brightly coloured missing poster in a sea of other brightly coloured missing posters. Even if they had ditched me at the boardwalk, Harry didn't deserve to join the potential run away kids that seemed so prevalent here. Or worse, he didn't deserve to join the dead and gone, never to be found again, merely a memory in the mind of the still living. Especially since Harry didn't seem to be the type to just run away, he seemed happy with Santa Carla, with Lizzie. Hell, according to what I've overheard, Harry was probably going to marry Lizzie right out of college.

I sent another glance Lizzie's way before taking my seat, two to the right of hers. She looked up briefly at the sound of my chair scraping back. Her eyes met mine, and seemed to light up for a second.

"Alice!" she barked, almost wildly. Her chair made a loud screech as she jumped up and approached me. "I need to talk to you!" She grabbed my hand as tightly as she could; it was a painful grip and felt as if she were going to cut off my circulation, but I let her drag me from my desk and into the now nearly abandoned hall.

"Uh Lizzie," I began, but she quickly cut me off.

"I need you to come to the boardwalk with me tonight! I've asked everyone else and no one will come with me – I'm passing out some fliers with Harry's picture on it. Oh please Alice, say you'll come!" Her loud voice drew attention to us from the straggling students and even from a stern looking teacher in the room across the hall, who sent us a glare and then shut her door with a slam.

"Alice please, I need your help, please Alice, please. I'll owe you big time, I swear! You can ask me for anything, I'll set you up with a nice boy from the football team. Tim Olsen's single, and so is Randall Evergreen! I'll get you on the cheerleading team, the prom committee, whatever! Please you gotta help me Alice, everyone else already has plans!"

It was pathetic. Lizzie was begging at this point, tears leaving streaks on her face – which held no makeup for once. She had only come to me because her other friends had refused, either thinking she was hysterical or simply didn't want to blow off their drunken revels because of one missing kid in a sea of thousands. Still though, her heartbroken pleas fell on open ears, and I could feel the guilt forcing its way into my throat. Lizzie didn't deserve this pain or the abandonment from her so-called friends. So, before I could even think otherwise – I agreed, despite all better judgement yelling at me to stay away from the boardwalk because of _those_ boys. As long as I made an effort to avoid them, I'd probably be fine. Probably.

That night came far too quickly. Once again, Lizzie chose and outfit for me and did up my hair and makeup, declaring we needed as much attention as possible to get Harry's face out and people actually interested in finding him. Lizzie had chosen the most vibrant outfit she could for herself, the bright yellow tank top clashing with the black and white vertical striped shorts she wore. She had shoved me into jean cut-offs and a black fringed off the shoulder top – claiming I would look just like Cyndi Lauper. And, after she finished with my hair – which now defied the law of gravity – I kind of did.

Within that hour, we were on the boardwalk near the rides, passing out blue missing person posters left, right and center. True as Lizzie said, the way we looked drew in a few people – mostly guys looking for a girl to drag around for the night. A few of them took posters, glanced at it and threw them away moments later – but we were trying. With each passing hour, as the crowd became more and more packed in, Lizzie began to lose hope. Nobody had seen Harry, not even some of his Surf-Nazi buddies. Maybe he really had taken off, because surely one of them would have heard from him by now. There was apparently only one way out of being a Surf-Nazi other than just up and disappearing into the country and that was, well, death.

"Hey Alice, I'm gonna go grab a drink at the concession stand. I'll be right back, kay?" Murmured Lizzie, just loud enough and just close enough to my ear for me to hear. I nodded, and watched her walk away, almost becoming invisible within seconds. She really did belong in the throng of happy people surrounding us, with Harry, not begging for news about him from people who didn't care.

"Well hey there, what's a pretty little thing like you doing all alone out here?" The warm breath of the speaker tickled my ear, and if it weren't for that, I would have assumed he was talking to another. I spun on my heel, only to come face to face with one of the blonde boys from the video store.

His smile was almost cruel in a sense, like he knew something I could never even hope to know, his Twisted Sister hair just as big and wild as it had been before, not a single strand out of place. I stared for a moment, which only increased the size of his grin.

"Hey now, I knew I'd take your breath away, but you gotta say something. I know you ain't mute." He taunted, his fingerless gloved hand running through his hair. I had a better look at him now than I had had at the video store – and his clothing screamed "wild child". A ripped up and customized tuxedo jacket, over a fishnet shirt, and white-washed ripped up jeans with large black boots. He screamed the true definition of bad boy – just like the rest of his gang.

I snapped out of my daze after a few more moments, warm blood rushing to my face, painting it red in embarrassment for being caught staring so obviously. It's just, boys like that never talked to girls like me, ever. It was some sort of unspoken rule, I'm sure once Lizzie came back he'd switch his attention to her in a flash, leaving me in their dust. Whether Lizzie like the attention or not depended on how much she had actually loved Harry.

"Sorry, I'm uh, well, my friend's boyfriend went missing a few days ago. Um, here!" I shoved the blue poster towards him, and he took it from me, making sure the bare flesh of his fingers touched mine, trying to get an even better reaction from me. He looked at Harry, for a moment, and began to speak,

"Hey, he's a Surf-Nazi right? I heard a few of 'em went missing after a fight – probably got themselves killed." He responded, nonchalantly, as if it were nothing. I suppose for him, coming from Santa Carla, that might have been normal. Still, it seemed as if he were leaving something out. At least he had the courtesy to fold the poster up and shove it in his pocket, instead of throwing it away in front of me.

I wondered where Lizzie had gone to, even with the lines; it didn't take this long to grab a drink. Maybe she saw Harry in the crowd?

Twisted Sister noticed my attention fading from him as I thought of Lizzie, and he leaned closer, slinging his arms around my shoulders.

"Come on now, you should have some fun tonight – unwind." It was such a nice offer, and his voice absolutely made me melt. There was something about him that made me want to say 'yes' and just toss the papers down, but my loyalty to Lizzie made me stay, and speak of the devil – She was back, a large coke bottle in hand.

"Hey Alice, who's your friend?" She raised her eyebrows towards Twister Sister, giving me a sly smirk. "I think I'm gonna stop for tonight, I ran into Angela, and she's having a bonfire down on the beach with a few others – so if you wanna take off you can." She came even closer to me, Twisted Sister moved over a bit to let her through. Her manicured hands grasped the posters from me, and she leaned in close to whisper:

"_Go on, have some fun. He's pretty into you."_

And with that, she was gone, leaving me with Twisted Sister, and no way home – again.

"Come on, let's have some fun!" I found myself nodding yes without meaning to. An involuntary action, as if I had almost been forced. My rules were gone, again. "Radical! I'm Paul, by the way, and you are, hot stuff, I assume?" I let out a small giggle at that, no one had ever called me hot before. His smile grew as I laughed, and his hand grasped mine, pulling me through the crowd until we came to the boardwalk edge between it and the beach.

"Alice, actually." I replied.

And for the first time in a long time, I let myself loose. Something called to me, Paul seemed fun, genuine and even though the voice in the back of my head screamed otherwise – that he was dangerous and a liar and hiding something – I ignored it. If the warning bells had rung for anyone else, would I have listened? Yes. Yes I would have. I would have run away, as far away as possible as quickly as possible.

But Paul.

Paul had me hypnotized, mesmerized.

If he asked me to do anything crazy – like run deep into the ocean until it was so deep and so far from the shore I couldn't see it, I probably would – he just gave off that energy that extreme need to keep up with him. He was unpredictable and handsome and just, everything I had ever dreamed about wanting. In fact, everyone in his gang had given off that feeling in the video store. I was drawn to them, to their energy, like they were all I would ever need in this world again.

Paul continued to drag me down to the beach, where a bonfire awaited, surrounded by the others from the video store – and I couldn't help but follow.


End file.
